


Must be Magic

by spnsmile



Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Blood and Torture, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Comfort, Dean Winchester is Saved, Healing, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, Love, M/M, Mild Blood, Pain, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Romantic Fluff, Short, Short One Shot, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25703800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Dean gets kidnapped by hunters who don't believe the 'An angel's fallen in love with a human' crap. Until they saw him come.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860856
Comments: 11
Kudos: 270
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Must be Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for August Writer's Month 2020 prompt: Magic 
> 
> Enjoy!

_It's pain unlike any other day._

When he gets ambushed in the middle of the night on the way home, Dean thought it'd be fun to play the kidnap card when he realized his attackers were only two men— just average humans, no demons possession, no spells cast by witches, but just _men_ trying to knock him on the ground. At first, he was enraged. Jackknife at hand, he's ready to take them on while already thinking of his midnight snack when the mention of ' _beef with John Wincheste_ r' robbed his attention.

Now, getting hunted by fellow hunters is common, Dean bathes in the number of times he and Sam had encountered, even got killed by mercenaries out for their blood, but death just wouldn't kick. It's common knowledge that you don't mess with _The Winchesters_ , and frankly, that stigma got them into more trouble than keeping the track clean. People just don't give a shit, when you tell them not to do something, the more they just want to do it.

It took a minute before what's obvious sinks in, they won't shut up about being righteous hunters trying to set the record right—by that logic means John Winchester should've killed his children— the same old accountability spout by men wanting to feel like they're doing some good to the world.

Dean should've killed them for that out of principle, but when lost of friends and family were cursed upon his name, something clicked in and he's down hard on the floor. He gave them B+ when he woke up tied on a chair with both arms behind his back. They don't look menacing to him with cheap rusty steel pipe and a baseball bat (what are they, teenagers? His dad's bat— well, he's not giving them that idea), and began beating the shit out of him.

That's been like four hours straight of kicking, knocking, punching, and slamming his gut out and Dean doesn't know how the topic got from his devil-may-care attitude about the whole thing to talking about the _Supernatural_ world of angels and gods. 

"How come someone like you— just a regular middle-aged man be so famous? What Winchester legend bullshit? What Dean Winchester and His angel?" it's followed by a punch on the jaw that cracked his teeth up his skull. Dean groans, blood-soaked with stinging pain all over his chest, his broken ribs, loud ringing in his ear as a hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and jammed his head backward enough to crack his neck.

"Easy on the 'middle-age', I'm lucky to reach out the calendar," Dean spits blood on the ground, numbing pain on his cracked nose when he tries to peer at the bastard, "and what can I say? Am hilarious—" he doesn't get to finish as a fist lands in his already split mouth. He groans again, fire setting everywhere his swimming head, body protesting at the sore areas, prickling sensation at open cuts and wounds. The only thing keeping Dean thinking straight is that some feathery ass hauls himself here as his arms won't respond to his brain's initial command of classic _pick-the-lock_ tactic. It's worth being stubborn since he doesn't have anything better to do.

"Hey, should we stop? Look at him, that's not right," whispers one of the voices in the slow program of Dean's brain, "he doesn't look... scared to die? Look at him... maybe... maybe he's really—y'know... gone back from hell? Saved by an angel?"

"Don't be an idiot," snarls his partner, "that's just some bogus hack they want people to believe so they gain more fame. This guy was chosen by god? Chosen by angels? That's a load of crap. Why would someone like him be chosen by any angels? What angels?"

"There's a rumor going around about this Dean Winchester being an _item..._ with an angel."

There's a minute pause. Dean's breathing eases, then he hears a snort.

"Get outta here! An angel falling in love with a human? Are you insane? Hey, Winchester, are you listening to this garbage people make about you? Is an angel in love with you? What'd you do? Dipped in angel pheromone?" he says, full of derision.

Between the throbbing ache, loss of blood, and ragged breathing, Dean finds himself uncontrollably shaking with laughter. They're not wrong. It sounds like a full-ass-crack. 

They frown at him and threaten to pulp his skull, but Dean doesn't feel threatened whatsoever. Things have stopped getting darker, there's something getting close by reaching for his soul, and that's how he knew until now he wasn't dreaming of it. 

_But why do they always insist it's Cas who's fallen in love first?_

"Sounds ugly coming from you dude..." he coughs painfully, eyes screwing as he spits out blood again, "it's something you'll never understand."

They freeze with eyes wide, halting any movements or attack as they glance at each other uncertainly.

"Hey, don't fuck with us..."

"You mean an angel...? In love...?"

Dean chuckles.

"Oh... don't know, dude... maybe call it _magic_ ," he grins between bloody teeth. The number of times he asked himself that. The number of times he is awed by the same truth, woke up and told himself he wasn't dreaming...so many times that he's thankful, there's no day he wasn't thankful thinking of that... knowing someone out there actually cares about someone as fucked as him.

There's a loud bang of doors shattering to pieces followed by a destructing surge of wind that got heads looking up behind them nervously, and then Dean's menacing chuckle between gurgle of his own blood as he eyed them, not remotely sorry.

_"Oh, you are so screwed."_

The angel stood at the door frame, all lightning and thunder in his bright blue eyes, casting a cold stare at the mortal men before they center on Dean. The blow of wind sharp, old cracked windows shattering as Castiel knocks the hunters easily like sacks and slams them on the ground heavily.

"They're just... petty men, you know," Dean breathes out when the angel drops on his knees in front of him, concern lying deep in his eyes. "...didn't have to go all out..."

"Dean," Cas whispers, slim fingers sliding around Dean's cheeks, cradling Dean's head gently, breaking him lose off the tight jumbo ropes in one single tug like they're nothing. Dean falling forward, Castiel right there to catch him, his touch worthy of an angel. He is.

"I got you... Dean. You had me worried." Castiel tilts his face gently, running a thumb on Dean's split lips, making the hunter hiss in pain. "Oh, sorry..."

Dean touches Cas's hand and squeezes, all muscles protesting any kind of movement.

"Shit... that was fun," he gulps, disgusted by his own blood. He tries to pull away from Cas but the angel is insistent on keeping his face in an angle where the angel can see his eyes. Dean lets him, half scared of what Castiel will see but nothing else seems to matter to Cas now that he got Dean in his arms. Blue eyes flicker from concern to relief, then pain and determination as he caresses Dean's bruised cheek.

"I heard your prayer... always come when you call," Castiel says, pulling his face closer.

Cas presses their forehead together and sighs against Dean's mouth healing quicker than light. Dean melts against his touch, pressing nose with his angel, lips capturing the sweet taste of his badass hero while Cas' grace envelops him like the warm sun in chilly morning and his body trembles, not because of the grace running and healing his tortured body, but because of the quivering in his heart only Castiel can supply. A touch in his soul only Castiel can ignite, and Dean thinks he is in love too.

Yep... must be _magic_.


End file.
